


It'll never stop.

by peachbellini



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:12:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachbellini/pseuds/peachbellini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pico travels to Mallorca with Rafa for a weekend of rest which doesn't really turn out to be all that restful at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll never stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Set between the Barcelona and Madrid tournaments in 2013.

Rafa hires a private jet out of Barcelona the morning after he wins the title. For Pico it seems like a stupid expense, he's used to budget airlines, until he steps on the plane and eyes the luxurious leather seats and the PS3 hooked up to a flatscreen.

"Is that a bed?!" He asks incredulously as Rafa sits down to strap himself in.

"Yes, but I wouldn't recommend using it during take off."

Rafa's grin stops Pico from making any snide comments back and he's more than happy making full use of the games console instead of the bed.

He gets kind of air sick anyway and it's not like that's the biggest aphrodisiac in the world.

"So what's the plan for when we land?" Pico asks with a smile after Rafa beats him for the second time. There's a reason the Argentinean always wants Rafa on his team when they play other people. "Can we go to the beach? It feels like forever since it's been nice enough to sunbathe when I've been staying with you. Last time was so cold."

Rafa grimaces and Pico's stomach drops. He's pretty sure he isn't going to love the plan for the day.

"Practice."

Rafa has the good grace to sound apologetic.

"Seriously?" Pico frowns, throwing his controller down and stretching an arm out to run his fingers down Rafa's arm. "You won a title _yesterday._ "

"My forehand isn't perfect."

He stops short of reminding Rafa that nobody's forehand is perfect. It's not really the kind of thing that works with grand slam champions. Instead Pico leans across the plush cushioned arms of their chairs and latches his lips onto Rafa's, certainly glad now of the privacy their own jet gives them – you can't kiss like this when you have a screaming kid sat across the aisle.

"Everything about you is perfect." Pico grins when he pulls back, earning himself a thump and the kind of shy, adoring smile that he'd pay good money to have etched on Rafa's face at all times. "Especially your ass."

Rafa snorts, but he doesn't protest – instead setting down his own PS3 controller so his hand is free to lightly grip Pico's.

"The way you're talking I'm surprised you even want to go to the beach. Can't have sex there."

"That's what the evening is for." Pico grins, rubbing small circles on the back of Rafa's hand with his fingers. The slow, sensual movement has Rafa shifting a little in his chair, that beautiful smile still present.

"We'll go to the beach after practice," He allows, and Pico wonders how much he's going against Toni's orders to promise this. "But you have to come to dinner at my Mama's in the evening, no?"

"Deal." Pico smiles, lifting Rafa's hand to his mouth to bestow a soft kiss on the tanned skin. "We can fuck after we've digested our dessert."

"You're terrible." Rafa smirks, and Pico knows.

He learnt his tricks from Rafa, after all.

 

***

Practice is as painful as Pico had assumed it would be. He sprays balls outside the lines every time Rafa so much as breathes in his direction and it isn't long before Toni is directing a torrent of abuse at him. Rafa finds this hilarious, of course, and even joins in until Pico takes him angrily by the arm and reminds him that he can easily withhold sex from the younger man if he carries on the way he's going.

Rafa stops quickly after that, and even Toni gives up after a while once Pico has hit a dozen or so good shots.

When he's reached his limit, which is about an hour of being pummeled by shots he can't return and abuse from all sides, he bows out to sit on the side of the court and watch Rafa hit serve after serve at empty cans of balls.

"Hey Pico."

It's Rafa's sister calling him from her position stretched out on the bench, reading a gossip magazine and looking like she couldn't care less that tennis magic is happening 10 feet away from her.

"Hi. What are you reading?"

"Some Spanish soap star has been sleeping with a famous La Liga player but she won't say who. There's all these clues and stuff."

"Oh, like a blind item?"

"How do you know what a blind item is?" Maribel snorts, looking at Pico over the top of her sunglasses and she is just as intimidatingly beautiful and snarky as her brother.

"Shut up and budge over. I want to sit."

They watch, or rather Pico watches, in silence until Toni calls it a day, slapping Rafa on the back and releasing him until the next morning. When the Spaniard makes his way over to where Pico is sitting it leaves him a little breathless – Rafa's hair is dripping with sweat and his skin coated in a sheeny layer of sweat that Pico wants to glide against. He takes his shirt off to change it and Pico unwittingly lets out a groan. He doesn't even realise what he's done until Maribel is practically falling off the bench laughing and Rafa's smirk is penetrating his whole being.

"You are so ridiculous." Maribel manages to splutter out through choking breaths of laughter. "How did you even manage to get my brother? You're the furthest thing from smooth I think I've ever..."

"Maribel." Rafa chides, slapping her arm so he leaves fingermarks. She tries to fight back but he's just too strong, gripping her against the back of the bench with ease. "Stop teasing Pico."

"No, but seriously..."

Pico lets Rafa handle it, watching as they play fight the other into submission.

The fact is that Pico has known Rafa for so long that the only time he can remember being awkward in the other boy's company is when they were teenagers and he'd got a boner when Rafa pinned him to the bed during a game on the console. It had been decidedly less awkward ten minutes after that when he'd found himself coming in Rafa's hand and witnessing the biggest grin he'd ever seen cross Rafa's face.

_"I knew you liked me."_

_"How? "  
_

_"You stare. And you're sweet to me."_

Pico had made it his life's mission to be sweet and stare and he's pretty sure he's doing well at it considering the fact he's nearing 30 and he's still getting flushed and turned on in Rafa's bed.

"Hey." Rafa's voice breaks through his thoughts. "Earth to Pico. You've disappeared."

His face is soft and kind, loving and understanding, and Pico quickly composes himself.

"Sorry, I was just thinking..."

"Don't let what Maribel said get to you." Rafa smiles. Pico has always been amazed at how Rafa can somehow sense his thoughts and know exactly how he's feeling. "You know exactly how you got me."

"Right place at the right time with the right sexual orientation?" He tries.

"Not even close." Rafa laughs, and he finally pulls a shirt on meaning Pico can breathe a little lighter. He picks up one of his bags and Pico carries the other along with his. "You got me because you think I'm perfect, and because I think you are." He smiles, looking down at his Nike adorned bag in Pico's hand. "And because you'll carry my shit without me asking."

Pico shrugs, but he can't hide the slight blush on his neck or the way he leans into Rafa when the younger man throws an arm around his neck.

"Come on." Rafa grins, throwing a wave to some old aged pensioner taking the court after him, forever a community boy. "We need to hurry if we're going to get a good beach spot before lunch."

 

***

Lunch, it turns out, is a couple of packets of potato chips from the vending machine at the club and a punnet of strawberries they pick up from a lady selling fruit out the back of her car.

"We could've gone to your place first." Pico says apologetically as he watches Rafa struggle to change into his swimshorts in the back of the car. He feels the Spaniard's pain after nearly losing his ability to procreate whilst changing himself. "We have a few days here after all..."

Rafa shushes him as he finally succeeds in hoisting the material over his ass.

"This isn't your fault, it's Kia's fault for building such small cars."

"Sure it's not your fault for agreeing to be sponsored by them?"

Rafa sticks his tongue out in protest and Pico laughs, settling back against his seat to shove half a packet of potato chips into his mouth, his stomach growling. He takes one last peek over into the back seat to admire the curves of Rafa's ass before they both get out of the car to make their way onto the sand.

It's a school day and the beach is less busy than in the height of summer so they have no problem securing a spot hidden a little from view. Pico barely has time to get his towel down on the sand before Rafa is leaping at him, pinning him in to the rough ground with a hand in his hair. When Pico had had what practically amounted to an afro there were times when Rafa's hand would get stuck bunched between strands. He's pretty confident Rafa likes it shorter, if the sex they'd had the day he cut it was anything to go by.

"Anyone could see." Pico reminds Rafa when he feels fingers slipping under the waistband of his shorts. "We don't want another fiasco like last summer."

Last summer of course being a slightly incriminating photo of them sun bathing side by side on Rafa's boat. Naked.

"Relax, Juan. Nobody can see us."

Rafa moves his attention to Pico's collarbone, nipping biting kisses along the exposed skin until Pico is finding it a struggle to resist.

"That's what they want you to think." He strains, but he still grabs hold of Rafa by the ass – he's only human after all.

Rafa stops, huffing as he sits up a little, ass filling Pico's hand perfectly.

"You're a lot more sexy when you're not making up conspiracy theories."

Pico grins, pulling Rafa back down to let him work his magic lips along his neck 

"They never really landed on the moon."

"Pico."

"Novak is a drug cheat."

That has Rafa snorting a little, resting his head on Pico's shoulder to hear the next wild accusation that comes out of his mouth.

"Hawkeye is operated by tiny hamsters."

Rafa snorts a lot at that one, sitting up and crashing their lips together in an attempt to make him shut up, Pico just smiles into the kiss and let's himself relax, moving with Rafa into a steady rhythm that reminds him of being 16 years old and making out in a deserted locker room.

Eventually it's Rafa who pulls back, and it's perfectly typical of their relationship – Pico may protest and try and have things his way but eventually it'll be Rafa who takes the initiative.

"I thought you wanted to go into the sea."

"I do."

"It'll be cold..." Rafa warns, pushing Pico's hair back to kiss the top of his forehead.

"I don't care."

"Alright. Race you then."

Pico thinks it's entirely unfair that Rafa gets as much of a head start as he does. Beginning a race pinned down by your opponent definitely gives him an even more unfair advantage to the fact that, well, Rafa is 5 times faster than him.

He gives a valiant effort and thinks at one point he might be able to pull out a surprise victory but in the end it's Rafa who reaches the sea first, falling in to the cold waves with a smile and pulling Pico down with him when he finally catches up.

Pico would've let him win anyway. It's just better for everyone that way.

 

***

 

When it comes to Rafa Pico envies one thing above all else – how little he seems to care about how he looks when he dresses up.

The Spaniard is sprawled out on the bed in his shirt and a pair of jeans that hug his ass in all the right places for at least a half hour whilst Pico carefully styles his hair and tries on three different outfits. He hadn't really packed for dinner with Rafa's parents – a proper dinner with them anyway. He was thinking of afternoons on the beach and take away pizza in bed when Rafa had suggested they spend a few days in Mallorca.

"Which shirt did you like better?" He asks, exasperated, when Rafa points out that they're ten minutes late leaving.

"You looked good in all three of them."

"That's not helping." He grumbles, holding two of the garments up to himself in the mirror again.

Rafa groans and pushes himself off the bed, walking with all the grace of a circus elephant across the room to Pico, grabbing the two shirts and throwing one to the growing floor-drobe of his own practice kits.

"There – is that helpful?"

"Shut up." He mumbles, pulling the chosen piece of clothing on and looking at himself one last time with a frown.

"Everything looks better when you smile." Rafa whispers in his ear, wrapping two strong arms around his chest. "It's my favourite thing you could wear."

"I don't know if your parents would appreciate me turning up in just a smile to dinner." Pico says, his face breaking into one nonetheless. Rafa turns him in his arms and presses their lips together and they stay like that, softly kissing, until Rafa's phone begins to buzz and ring from his pocket.

"Mama." He says guiltily looking at the screen.

"How late are we?" Pico asks, sliding his shoes on.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Car. Now." He orders, and for once Rafa listens to him.

When they arrive they're more than twenty five minutes late and Pico can tell from the smirk on Maribel's face and the way Toni keeps shaking his head that they think the two of them are late because they'd well, been having sex.

"Sorry we're late." He tries, slipping down in his seat between Rafa and his Dad. "I couldn't decide what to wear."

He's aware he sounds like he’s lying and Toni lets him know how true that is by snorting louder than some pigs Pico has seen covered in mud at a farm.

"Really?" Maribel laughs. "That's the excuse you're going with?"

"Unfortunately it's true." Rafa smiles, slipping his hand across the table to squeeze his Mama's. "We went to the beach and lost track of time changing. I hope the food hasn't gone cold?"

Luckily it hasn't and Pico is relieved that conversation moves on quickly without them having to dwell on his inability to choose his own clothing. Maribel gives him withering looks and rolls her eyes on every occasion but Pico has it on good authority the bitchiness only comes from the left over sting of a childhood crush she'd had on him.

Never nice when you brother steals the guy you want, he guesses.

"There are enough of us to get an apartment in Madrid." Rafa's Mama is saying and Pico tunes in when he realises sleeping arrangements are being discussed.

"Sure." Rafa nods. "Maybe you guys can get an apartment? I think I'll stay in the hotel – it's closer to the grounds."

"It'll appease Tiriac too." Toni suggests.

"He's still not over everyone hating the blue clay?" Pico asks, but he knows the answer to that one, Rafa grumbles about the Madrid tournament every chance he can get.

"Apart from Fernando." Rafa laughs, and he catches Pico's hand under the table, squeezing the limb to say thank you for not letting my family get to you – again.

"So, Pico, what's your plan for the rest of the season?"

The words come to him easily when he's able to talk about himself and Rafa's dad, who asked the question, smiles and nods as Pico explains his schedule – if he notices it mirrors Rafa's pretty perfectly he doesn't comment on it.

By dessert, a large chocolate cake that he's pretty sure Rafa could devour whole if given half the chance, the topic has progressed to teasing Maribel about her boyfriend and Pico actually enjoys sitting on the sidelines and watching her squirm under their words.

"Taste of your own medicine." He'll grin when everyone else has moved on to a suggestion of taking their coffees outside.

"Bite me, Pico." She snaps, but there is a smile behind her words and she gives him half a kiss on the cheek as she brushes past him.

A moment later the space once occupied by the youngest Nadal is filled with his favourite one – Rafa bending his head to kiss along Pico's jawline, finally alone for the first time since they'd stepped through the door of Rafa's childhood home.

"I'd much prefer you bit me, not my sister." Rafa smiles, letting Pico wrap his arms around his waist and kiss at his neck, willing for once to let the older man take the initiative.

"I'd prefer if we went home." Pico whispers, dipping his hands into the back pocket of Rafa's jeans. "I won't need coffee to keep me awake tonight. I'll have you."

They're far too polite to just slip out and Pico ends up saying goodbye to Rafa's family far more aroused than he'd like to be, kissing Rafa's Mama on the cheek before retreating as far from the gang as he can.

"You realise it's a good thing they're horrible to you, don't you?" Rafa smiles as he slowly takes the twisting roads back to his own home.

"How could that ever be a good thing?"

"It means they think of you as part of the family – like I do." Rafa shrugs, and Pico watches him intently the rest of the drive, his hand covering Rafa's on the gearstick – a quiet but very assured 'I love you'.

 

***

 

"I can't believe I've had to wait all day for this." Pico grunts as he and Rafa crash through the door to the bedroom.

They nearly trip over a rogue shoe on their way to the bed but Rafa is sturdy in keeping them up and letting them fall together into the centre of the mattress. Pico is quick in taking Rafa's clothes off, trousers and underwear until he's left just wearing his shirt.

"This is such a kink for you, isn't it?" Rafa laughs as he lies on the bed, fiddling with Pico's buttons in an attempt to get him to the same state of undress.

"You look good in white." Pico smirks, rubbing his hand along Rafa's length.

"You look good in nothing."

And it's nothing that Pico finds himself wearing barely a minute later, his back arching against the headboard as Rafa works on him with a skilled mouth.

He'd been the first guy Rafa had blown and he would've been the last if it hadn't been for a few hiccups when they were young and didn't realise what they had was forever.

"I wish we could spend all day doing this." Pico wonders out loud, and he feels Rafa pull back for what is either a breath or a possible disagreement. Whichever it is he must decide the taste of Pico is better because he's closed back around the throbbing length quickly. "If you keep doing this I'll come and then I won't be able to fuck you."

Rafa snakes a hand around to Pico's ass and well, he can read the signs. After that all it takes is a few more dips of his head and a squeeze to the flesh his hand rests on for the Argentinean to erupt into Rafa's mouth, the Spaniard draining him till all that's left is a panting, sunkissed body.

A painting sunkissed body that Rafa hardly let's come down from its high before he works his way inside, fingers scissoring Pico open as he wraps his legs around Rafa's body, urging him closer and eventually inside.

They've never had a set in stone top and bottom situation. Pico loves Rafa's ass but he also loves to be claimed by the champion, to have himself filled with someone everyone wants but only he gets.

Rafa works hard at a rhythm that has Pico beginning to harden again. He's delirious with pleasure and the heat of the bedroom and when Rafa presses their lips together in a battle of tongues he begins to unwind completely once more. Rafa to his credit is there to pump him to his second orgasm before he's even come himself and Pico is pretty sure that is what love is.

Rafa follows soon after, moving swiftly inside Pico until he suddenly comes undone and collapses on the older man's body, breathing heat onto Pico's chest as they try to put themselves together.

"That was worth the wait." Pico whispers soon after, threading his fingers into Rafa's hair and letting him begin to fall asleep on his chest. "Better than plane sex."

"We can try that on our way to Madrid." Rafa mumbles. "If you're not going to insist we catch an easyjet flight."

"Private jet sounds good."

They fall asleep whispering meaningful pleasantaries and the last thing Pico says before he falls asleep is that he loves Rafa.

Then Rafa says it back.

The tour will rumble on, Maribel will keep teasing him, he’ll never be able to choose an outfit first time and him and Rafa will practice till their bodies collapse underneath them.

It’ll never stop.

But Pico is okay with that, so long as this – lying in bed with the man he loves – never does either.


End file.
